


Everything is different, everything’s the same

by Death2Toby



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Morning Sex, No Plot/Plotless, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Top!Bucky, bottom!Steve, i don’t even know how to tag this, not really porn but
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-16
Updated: 2018-01-16
Packaged: 2019-03-05 19:46:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13394958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Death2Toby/pseuds/Death2Toby
Summary: In which Steve and Bucky have a lovely early morning together.





	Everything is different, everything’s the same

**Author's Note:**

> I did not intend for this to be sexual but porn found me ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> EDIT: Somehow I posted an unfinished version of the story. Please re-read!

Bucky has seen a lot of 7 a.m.s in his day. 

He used to spend them wide awake beside a smaller, frailer Steve, listening carefully to make sure he was still breathing. And then he left for war. And even an ocean away, even as he spent his days training, and then traveling, and then fighting, his internal clock would rouse him, his heart would pound, and for a moment he would forget where he was. Panic would set in as he pushed himself up, examining the empty space next to him. Then he would remember. Steve was a half a world away. And if he stopped breathing now there was fuck all Bucky could do about it. 

There are a lot of 7 a.m.s that he doesn’t remember. Although, he hasn’t really tried. Back then the days were the same, morning, evening, it didn’t matter. Time mattered to him just about as much as it did to any machine. And all his time was spent doing terrible things for terrible people. 

And then he pulled a man from a river, a man he was supposed to kill, and spent many mornings trying to figure out why. A lot’s changed since then. 

This particular morning, his eyes flutter open just before the sun begins to cast golden tendrils of light over the city, when the black of night is replaced with a monochrome blue, with just enough light that he can make out his surroundings. It’s calming and makes him feel as though time has stopped. 

When he glances over to the bedside clock to read 7:03 a.m., all is just as it should be, though not at all like he’d ever imagined it. He feels like a different person now, except that he’s just as in love as he’s ever been, with Steve, who’s just as much exactly the same as he is different. Bucky listens to Steve’s breathing. The air enters and leaves his lungs easily these days and for that, and so much more, Bucky is thankful. 

He rolls over to take in the other man’s features in the dim light. Steve’s jaw is slack, full lips parted slightly, hair tousled by his pillow. He looks so soft, vulnerable almost, and it’s a privilege to be the only one to see this side of the man the world calls Captain America. Bucky spent a lot of time wondering if he deserved it, but he’d finally realized it didn’t matter. Steve wanted him, and that was all that mattered. 

And god he knows he shouldn’t, but he can’t find it within himself not to. He brings his left hand up to Steve’s cheek, gently. It’s not something he would have done a few months ago, but Steve has helped him accept the inorganic appendage as a part of himself. Steve looks at Bucky the same way he always has. 

At the touch of cool metal against his skin, Steve’s eyelids lift lazily. A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth and Bucky thinks he’s the most perfect thing he’s ever seen. 

“Morning,” Steve says softly, bringing his hand up to meet Bucky’s.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” Bucky replies, not really very sorry at all. 

“Well, you’re not exactly subtle, Buck,” Steve jokes. 

“Shut up.” Bucky closes the short distance between them with a kiss, soft and sleep stale, but electric nonetheless. He is still so in awe of what they are now. “If you want subtle, you might be with the wrong guy.” 

Steve chuckles. “What the hell are you doing up so early anyway?” 

Bucky thinks for a moment. “I’m not sure,” he concludes as his eyes are drawn conspicuously across the planes of Steve’s chest, “but since I’m up, maybe we should make the most of it.” His lips turn up in a devilish grin. 

“Jesus, when did you get so cheesy, Barnes,” Steve jabs. 

“Probably when it became legal for me to be,” Bucky quips in return. “Besides, you can’t tell me you weren’t thinking the same thing.”

The blood flowing toward his groin is rather damning evidence, so instead of denying it, Steve moves closer in a graceful maneuver, swinging his leg across Bucky’s waist and moving in to kiss him again. Bucky moans softly against Steve’s lips, suddenly out of jokes. He clasps a hand around the back of Steve’s neck, parting his lips with his tongue, kissing him breathless. 

Steve breaks away for a moment to catch his breath, still managing a wry smile. And Bucky loves him so god damn much he thinks he might burst. He’s sure that he would, in fact, except that it didn’t have to be a secret anymore. Then Steve is leaning across the bed, rummaging through the drawer, and Bucky is out of his head again when he feels the cold gel that Steve is squeezing generously from the tube he’d acquired. 

“A bit impatient aren’t you,” Bucky asks, his presumptuous tone lost to a voice quivering with anticipation. 

“Are you not,” Steve replies, voice unwavering, crooked smile barely betrayed by a soft blush. As much as Bucky admires Steve’s even keel, he thought it was much more satisfying to be the one surrendering to it. 

And so he looks up at the ceiling, taking a deep breath, and waiting. He feels Steve lowering himself slowly and his breath hitches, warmth pooling in his stomach. Steve gives a soft groan and Bucky takes in his features once again. His expression is harder now, brows tense, eyes closed tight, jaw rigid. Once he’s firmly seated, he relaxes, leaning forward again and smiling. 

“Buck,” Steve murmurs. 

“Yeah?” 

“I love you.” 

Orange light is beginning to splash through the window, casting across Steve’s face and shoulders, and Bucky recognizes how entirely cliche it is but maybe that’s exactly what they need. 

“I love you too” 

Their lips meet again tenderly and Steve rolls his hips and Bucky wonders how in the hell he waited so long for this. “Fuck, Steve.” 

He tries to be patient, really he does, but he’s spent most of his life waiting and he doesn’t much care for it, so he grips Steve by the hips, thrusting up to meet him. Their sarcastic banter dissolves into moans and heavy breaths as they rock together. Steve takes himself in hand and matches the earnest rhythm.

“Buck,” Steve rasps, nails scratching against the other man’s metal shoulder. 

Bucky makes a guttural sound that might be Steve’s name and then it’s all over. 

Release leaves Bucky spilling over inside the other man, who consequently paints Bucky’s stomach with streaks of white before collapsing on top of him in a damp heap. 

Bucky moves his arm across his face to block out the blinding sunlight. Steve finds the strength within himself to push off of Bucky, standing and practically wobbling to the window to shut the blackout drapes before letting himself fall back onto the cool side of the bed. 

“Thanks,” Bucky says, uncovering his face. 

“Goodnight,” Steve grumbles. 

Bucky rolls his eyes, smiling. Steve never was a morning person.


End file.
